My grandmother didn’t have a funeral.
She’d outlived her two husbands, and everyone from her generation of the family.
“Why doesn’t anyone visit?” she’d asked.
“You’re the last one left,” said my mother.
My parents took over caring for her after my mom’s sister had pretty much robbed my grandmother blind, selling off everything, giving her kids all kinds of gifts.
Let’s not talk about my brother. He’s dead to me, okay?
So that just left me.
“What’s the point?” said my mother.
So, I hung up the phone, sat in the parking lot of the grocery store, and wept.